


The One We Have Wronged

by LeelaLaFleur



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Bittersweet, Force's POV, Gen, Obi-centric, angsty- kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 02:07:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6404257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeelaLaFleur/pseuds/LeelaLaFleur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life and death of Obi-Wan Kenobi from the point of view of the Force itself</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One We Have Wronged

The One We Have Wronged

The first time you speak to us, your voice is loud, but also broken and filled with sadness.  You beg us for help, plea for answers, ask for explanations to your suffering.

You are so young, mere child in the eyes of your kind, yet you speak to us like the wisest Masters of your Order. Your heart is kind and so we listen.

“I will not take him. I do not have time to train that child, he can barely use the Force as is. He will probably never make a Jedi anyway” the voice of Qui-Gon Jinn carries from the Council room, through the hallway, all the way to you.

Your tiny hands raise to cover your ears, as you desperately try to block the harsh words and the pain that is sure to follow.

“Send him to the AgriCorp, then. He will do fine as a farmer.” Master Jinn declares again and you shrink back in fear.

Tears start rolling down your round little cheeks. You can no longer keep your emotions in, as you desperately try to understand ‘why’ are you being denied. You try so hard, you spend all your days practicing your lightsaber skills and all your nights studying the Jedi Code, but it is still not enough. Never enough.

You know that you don’t have as much talent as other Padawans, you are not as fast, not as strong. But you have always hoped that if you put effort into your training, and if you just try, then a Master is bound to notice you and you will be a Jedi. But now, now you know that there is, in deed, no try.

You cry out to us again and this time we answer.

Gently, we explain to you everything. We tell you of the prophecy, a legend foretelling the Chosen One’s coming. We tell you of Quai-Gon’s futile hopes to be the one to train the young savior, and of his obsession with the Living Force. We whisper to your ears the great stories of the future. 

You will be a Jedi.

Our whispers resonate in your ears soothingly, and slowly your cries subside, fading into silent nothingness. Few moments later, Master Jinn emerges, bluntly informing you that you are now his Padawan. You can hear the bitterness and dismay in his voice, but you forgive him. You are so happy.

Two standard years later the Chosen One is born.

***

The next time we speak, there is a bitter sadness in your tone.

You stand on one of the highest terraces of the Jedi temple, alone, facing the setting sun. Your padawan braid, now severed from the rest of your hair, is loosely entwined between the fingers of your left hand.

This time, you do not cry, nor do you search for answers. The only thing you ask for is forgiveness.

Quai-Gon Jinn is dead.

Your master- the father you never had- has left the realm of living, but you cannot bring yourself to mourn him over the flood of resentment and anger.

His words restlessly replay in your head: ‘He... is the chosen one. He... will bring balance. Train him...’ and your hand clutches the braid more firmly, as you desperately try to reign in your displeasure. All these years, you have done anything and everything your master has ordered, you have followed his directions to the letter, you have become the star Padawan of the Temple- the one, whose braid is so cluttered with honor beads and ceremonial ribbons that it has become difficult to add any new ones. You have become the one other Masters use as an example for their unruly Padawans, but Qui-Gon never cared. Despite your best efforts, your love and devotion, even on his deathbed, your Master’s thoughts were solely on the boy.

_Anakin._

He speaks to us like you do, but his language is different. Anakin never talks or asks, he only commands. He orders and he demands. Nothing less.

He is the Chosen One, after all.

And you hate him for it.

You hate him for having Qui-Gon’s love. And for that you ask to be forgiven.

Then a small, shaking hand presses itself into yours and you look into those wide, teary eyes, seeing only fear, confusion, and sadness. Anakin is scared. You are reminded of an old memory.

How could you be any better than your own Master if you deny the boy his training under the same premises that you were once denied, you ask yourself even though you know the answer already.

You smile at the boy, intertwining his little fingers with yours, whispering to him all the things your Master’d never said to you. You tell him how brave he is and how proud you are of him.

You know then that you will do anything to make Anakin’s dreams come true.

He doesn’t deserve your resentment, you decide.

You lead him back to the Temple, showing him all the exciting features and hide-outs. Your padawan braid lays forgotten at the terrace’s ledge and you will not remember it again for many long years.

You make us proud.

***

Your motionless body is sprawled across a cold, metallic floor, soaked in its own blood, which has pooled around your abdomen and chest. The consciousness has left you long time ago, but your spirit, the essence of all life, is still here, shining brightly and begging for permission to join us.

You have always belonged with us. We have been patiently waiting for your return.

But the Chosen One commands us to ‘save’ you, and so we do.

You open your bleary eyes and cough up enough blood to make even stronger men cringe, but you are _alive_.

The Chosen One is happy and, perhaps, you will be, too.

***

_What should I do?_

You ask us for the thousandth time, as you defeatedly drop your head in your arms, and viciously clench your fists in your red locks. Your body curls on itself, when another wave of resentment flashes through your eyes.

A quiet sob escapes your lips.

You have been betrayed, yet you feel like the biggest traitor of this story.

You have seen them together so many times, hiding their love in the shadows of Coruscant. You do not know how deep the forbidden affection really goes, but you can feel it there. Anakin’s secret nightly trips, missed meetings, and distractedness all end with one explanation- Padme Amidala.

You know of their love. How could you not when it’s so painfully obvious? All the love and passion leaking through your padawan’s shields every time he’s near her.

You _know_. 

You know how dangerous attachment. We have showed you thousand times how this will end.

Yet, you say nothing.

You were asked by the Jedi Council itself, and you lied. You lied because telling the truth would mean betraying the one person you have sworn to love and protect above all. You know it was _wrong_ but you simply could not bring yourself to betray him.

‘Attachment leads to jealousy, the shadow of greed, both leading to the Dark Side.’

The Council sees the seed of darkness steadily growing in young Skywalker’s soul, blinding him and tearing him apart. The worst part is that you see it too. You know you should stop it.

But you love him too much, so you turn a blind eye to all his flaws.

Are you betraying the Jedi? Are you betraying all you have ever believed?

You cry yourself to sleep that night, while we whisper to you the ancient legends of times long lost.

Do not fret, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you will prevail.

***

You both speak to us.

The Chosen One screams and pulls us towards him just as violently as he swings his lightsaber in the heat of the burning inferno. He calls on us to give him strength, the strength to end it all. To end you.

And strangely, you beg us for the same.

As your lightsaber dutifully clashes with his and your lungs fill with another dose of torrid smoke, you pray for his weapon to finally sever your head from the rest of your body (or perhaps to pierce your heart) just so it can be over. Your heart is aching at the look of disgust that is pained on his young face.

Your padawan.

Your brother.

Your best friend.

You have already lost, you tells us desperately. Even now you still love him, more than the Jedi, more than the endless galaxies, more than life itself.   

We do not understand the hate that resonates through the Chosen One’s mind or why is it directed at you.

But he was always predestined to die so the time can continue, so we tip the imaginary scale of powers, and you win.

Against our wishes, you do not kill him, changing the history forever and sealing your fate as a failure in everyone’s eyes.

He will seek revenge and kill you, it’s only question of time now.

Still you love him and we forgive you.

***

You don’t talk to us anymore, yet we visit you, whispering to you soothingly as you cry yourself to sleep night after night.

Tatooine is the perfect place to hide, but it reminds you too much of your own mistakes.

***

You still don’t talk to us, but Luke does.

You are important to him, he says, and we can almost feel the light spilling from the child. Luke is everything that the Chosen One never was- he listen to your lectures and heeds your advice, he always thinks before jumping to action, he prefers negotiations to fights, but most importantly he is completely and utterly good. Sometimes, when he smiles at you so full of hope and dreams, you could swear _he_ is the Chosen One.

More often than not you find yourself wishing he could always stay like that.

So you protect him, shield him from the world and all the ugly truths that you swept under the rug when Anakin died. You do not train him in the way of the Jedi, because you no longer believe you deserve another padawan.

Yet young Skywalker learns from you and with everyday passing day, you can see him becoming more and more like you.

***

You are so proud of Luke that you do something you have sworn to never do again and you speak to us again. Even if it’s just to ask us to keep the child safe.

We rejoice at the sound of your voice.

***

History repeats itself.

You and the Chosen One raise your weapons against each other like you did so many years ago. Except this time, there is no fortitude behind either of yours attacks. He still hates you and a part of you still loves him.

You both know that you will not leave the Death Star alive, and that’s just alright with you. The only thing you care about is buying time for Luke’s escape, and if you die during the process, so be it.

You now know that he _is_ the one. The new hope. The one to restore the balance in the universe.

Vader’s lightsaber swings in your direction and you send Luke your good-byes.

The boy loves you and is reluctant to let you go, but in the end he understands that that is your wish and severs the bond between your bodies.

***

We welcome you with open arms, and your spirit shines with content.

Your duty to the universe is far from over, but you are where you belong, where you have always belonged.

Your rightful place at our side.

  

 

 

  


End file.
